


It's Not a Gamble If You Know You're Right

by BuzzCat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Camping, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Stan still loves period drama reruns, Werewolf!Stan, bisexual!Stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuzzCat/pseuds/BuzzCat
Summary: Ford and Stan take the kids camping and Stan and Ford make a bet: is there such a thing as a werewolf? Before the night is out, Stan is doggone smug and Ford is coated in werewolf spit. As far as Dipper and Mabel are concerned, this is the best prank they've ever seen.





	1. Chapter 1

“Stanley, you can’t mean to suggest that werewolves are real,” Ford scoffed as they set up the tent. The kids were going home in a few days and after Weirdmageddon, Stan had suggested in passing that these city kids had no idea what camping was really about. Dipper and Mabel had taken the challenge for what it was and now here they were, setting up tents in the middle of the woods on the night of the full moon.

“Poindexter, I’m more than suggesting it. I’m saying it,” Stan said as he nailed one of the final tent stakes into the ground.

“And why on earth would you believe in werewolves?” Ford asked as he helped Dipper attach the rain roof to the twins’ tent.

“Because I’ve seen one.”

“Stanley, there’s no such thing as werewolves. In all my years studying in Gravity Falls and traveling the multiverse, I have never once encountered anything that could be called a werewolf.”

The twins sat and listened to their conversation. If Ford had been paying attention to them instead of arguing with his brother, he would have seen Mabel’s eyes shining with glee and Dipper’s smile growing more and more anticipatory.

“Oh, there’s no such thing as werewolves? I will bet you right now that we see a werewolf tonight,” Stan said. Ford cocked an eyebrow,

“And what will you bet me?”

“Uh, tv privileges for a week? Winner gets to pick what we watch.” It was a well-worn battle between Stan and Ford, one of whom enjoyed period dramas and the other enjoyed nature documentaries. Ford’s eyebrows shot up,

“Really? You’re that confident?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” Both were standing up now, arms crossed and staring. Ford stared at Stan for a moment, waiting for his brother to give something away. Stan, true to form, had a perfect poker face. Finally, Ford shrugged,

“Alright, we’ll bet. We have to see a werewolf tonight, or I win.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Stan said, smirking. Just as Ford began to think that perhaps his brother knew more than he was letting on, Mabel piped up,

“The tents are up! Now we make s’mores!”

 

Contrary to Mabel’s proclamation, they did not make s’mores next. Ford declared it far too early in the afternoon to settle in for something like s’mores and he and Dipper led the group in an exploratory trip. While heading toward the campsite, Ford had been too focused on trying to remember its location to actually examine the flora and fauna they passed. This time, however, he had no such restrictions on his natural curiosity and began reexploring the forest with gusto.

“Oh look, humming toadstools! I thought these were extinct in this part of the forest!” Ford said, bounding a few paces ahead and crouching down to inspect the toadstools. Dipper ran behind him, following along happily. Mabel was grinning, barely containing her shouts of glee. She whispered to Stan,

“It’s like he’s a puppy dog and all of the forest plants and animals are his new friends.”

“Yeah, most of his friends would be humming mushrooms and three-eyed deer,” Stan said with a smile. Ford and Dipper paid them no mind, too busy takes notes in their respective journals,

“Interesting; this particular cluster seems to be humming up and down the F-minor scale. The cluster I encountered previously was partial to the C-major scale. Absolutely fascinating.”

“Do you think Weirdmageddon changed it, or perhaps a response to other environmental factors?” Dipper asked, chewing on the end of his pen.

“I’d bet it was a combination of both; Weirdmageddon might have been erased from the town but I think it had long-lasting effects on the forest. And speaking of bets,” Ford stood up and turned to face Stan, “the sun will be setting soon. Any last thoughts about the existence of werewolves?”

“Nope.” Stan smiled and pushed Mabel behind him so Ford wouldn’t see her giggling. Ford frowned at the pair of them,

“Stanley, this is ridiculous. If there were werewolves in the forest, there’d be signs of them. Like look here,” Ford gestured at the trees in the area. All were unmarked, their bark as pristine as could be this deep in the forest. “If there was a werewolf in the area, all of these trees would be marked up. There’d be a stench in the air and, most importantly, _people in town would actually be werewolves_.” Ford said. Stan rolled his eyes,

“You know, for something you don’t believe in, you sure seem to have some concrete ideas about what werewolves do,” he said smugly. Ford blushed and flustered,

“Well, I mean, the anecdotal evidence—which is not hard evidence—says that—”

“Wait wait, ‘anecdotal evidence’? You mean sci-fi stories. Ford, you’re basing your entire understanding of what werewolves do on dime comics from when we were kids?”

“No! According to the folklore surrounding werewolves, stories passed on within certain cultures, werewolves are destructive creatures. If there was a werewolf, we’d know it.” Ford crossed his arms and Stan knew there was no arguing with him now. He rolled his eyes,

“You know what? We’ll see what werewolves are like later, when we actually see one.”

“But they aren’t—”

“Hey Great Uncle Ford, is that the special pond you wrote about in your journal?” Dipper asked, pointing at a pond that seemed to sparkle in the fading light. Ford glared at Stan for a final moment before turning to Dipper,

“Indeed it is. Come, let’s see how the local fairy population has taken to it since I last visited.”

 

By the time they finished investigating the pond, it was time to return to camp. Stan and Ford got the fire started while Mabel and Dipper prepared the s’more makings and soon everyone was stuffed full of marshmallows and chocolate and a game of charades had begun.

Dipper was ‘it’, performing for the group. He panted, tongue hanging out of his mouth, and mimed rowing a canoe as the group stared at him, confused and guessing at random before Stan managed to shout, “Dog paddle!”

“Got it!” Dipper said, sitting down beside his sister and taking a drink of water. Paddling and panting was hard work. Stan stood up and eyed the sky, checking for the sunset and the moonrise. He turned to the group and while Ford was distracted with a beetle crawling across his shoelace, Stan winked at the kids, who winked back. They subtly moved to sit on either side of Ford, leaning against him. Ford smiled, putting an arm around each of the kids. Stan put on a show of thinking of his word, frowning and tapping his chin before he grinned. He held up a single finger and Ford interpreted,

“One words.”

Two fingers.

“Two syllables.”

And Stan waited. He held completely still. Just as Ford about to ask what was going on, Stan began to change.

He grew tall, taller than the tent, tall enough that Ford’s head would have barely met his shoulder. His nose elongated into a snout and thick dark brown fur sprouted over his entire body. His legs shifted, elongating and twisting until they resembled a dog’s haunches and his entire body somehow continued growing even larger.

It was the work of only seconds, but between one second and the next, Stanley Pines had transformed into the huge wolf that stood before them, standing on all fours but still tall enough that Ford had to look up to meet his eye.

Portal instincts kicked in and Ford threw the kids behind him, hand going for the gun at his hip.

A gun that was not there.

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford. It’s just Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said and when his eyes flicked down, he saw that she had his gun in her other hand. Looking to the other side, he saw Dipper had liberated his other gun and was also holding it out of range, forcing Ford to look up at the monster that had appeared in their campsite and meet it unarmed.

The monster that was now sitting on its haunches and panting, looking at the group and waiting.  Ford stared at it, examining the animal. It waited patiently as Ford slowly circled it, never taking its eyes off Ford. Finally, Ford was forced to reach the only conclusion, however unlikely,

“Stanley?”

The wolf barked excitedly and leaned forward, tail in the air and wagging hesitantly. Ford stared for a moment before he shouted,

“This doesn’t count as winning a bet! This invalidates our bet if you were the werewolf the entire time!” The kids started laughing and Stan somehow managed to smile smugly before he walked over to the group, laying down behind them. The kids each snuggled into his fur and when Mabel made grabby hands at his face, Stan leaned forward until Mabel could scratch under his chin. His tail began swishing back and forth, clearing a three-foot radius of all the dead leaves. Ford harrumphed, sitting back down between his niece and nephew and leaning back against his brother’s side. This wasn’t fair.

“We’re going to be discussing this tomorrow, Stanley Pines,” he said, crossing his arms and pouting. Stan moved his head out of Mabel’s reach until his wet nose hovered just over Ford’s head. Then, in a move for which Mabel had the utmost respect, Stan stuck out his tongue and licked Ford from the nape of his neck to the tip of his hair, coating the entire back of his head in werewolf spit.

 

Throughout the forest, every animal could hear the sound of two giggling children and one very indignant old man, yelling at some werewolf named Stanley.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan explains how he became a werewolf.

Ford was not a man who enjoyed being wrong. In fact, he was a man who fairly detested being wrong. It grated on his nerves like nothing else.

Nothing else, that is, except for period drama reruns.

“’The Duchess Approves’ will return after these messages,” the television said as a commercial for hearing aids came on. Ford sat in his newly purchased armchair, placed right beside Stan’s old recliner. Dipper and Mabel were sprawled across both Stan and Ford’s laps; the kids had fallen asleep around the second hour mark of ‘The Duchess Approves’. Ford’s arms were crossed and his expression scrunched.

He was not enjoying his lack of television privileges.

“I still can’t believe you’re a werewolf,” he said quietly, apropos of nothing. Stan was sitting in his recliner, a half-empty container of ice cream on the arm rest. He grinned smugly,

“I still can’t believe you can’t believe that. C’mon Ford, Mothman owes you money and you didn’t think werewolves existed? That’s like, your sci-fi bread and butter.”

“But there’s never any evidence!” Ford said. He was obviously working to restrain himself from getting up and pacing. Only the great-niece and -nephew sprawled half in his lap stopped him, though he did drum his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “Everyone has stories of werewolves, but no one has been able to produce evidence!”

“Eh, maybe it’s just because it’s too common of a thing.”

Ford whipped around to look at Stanley, eyes bulging, “What do you mean, werewolves are a “common thing?”

“I mean, story-wise. Because it’s such a common story, people just don’t talk about it. Like vampires and Frankenstein; you know, your basic Halloween costume monsters.”

“Yes, but why haven’t scientists written papers!” Mabel shifted a bit in her sleep and Ford brought his voice back down, stroking her hair until she settled. Ford looked at Stan, frowning, “How’d you become a werewolf if they’re so popular?”

Stan shrugged, “Wrong place wrong time, I guess.” Ford looked at him a little harder and Stan sighed, “It’s just a story I haven’t told before.”

“I’d like to hear it,” Ford said quietly, entreatingly. Stan smiled and carefully shifted in his chair, going into storyteller mode.

“A’right, a’right. Las Vegas, 1980-something. I’d fallen in with this piece of work, Jimmy Snakes. Small-time criminal looking to become a big-time boss. But he was an innovator. Had some ideas on how to improve personal security. His theory was that getting power wasn’t the problem, it was holding onto it. He was getting concerned someone was gonna bump him off in the middle of the night. But Jimmy had a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who was a werewolf.”

“In Las Vegas? Wouldn’t that kind of wildlife stick out in such a metropolitan area?”

“The guy lived out in the middle of the desert, so it wasn’t so much a problem. Anyway, the guy told Jimmy about how werewolves were strong. Fast, and not just when they changed. And with big teeth, the kind meant for ripping off arms. So Jimmy decided he wanted himself a couple werewolves as muscle to have around. I was the first one who got turned.”

“Why you?” Ford interrupted. Stan blushed and looked away,

“Because Jimmy had shoulders like a wrestler and I was thinking with the wrong anatomy. Framed it up as a way to protect him, keep him safe. He always said I had this, ah, ‘protecting people’ thing.”

Ford grimaced at that. Yes, he could imagine very well where Stan’s protective instincts may have come from. Stan continued,

“Anyway, I got turned. Hurt like a bi—it hurt a lot. The bite swelled up and I was running a fever for a week straight. And let me tell you, the last place you want to be running a fever is the middle of the Nevada desert. But next full moon, I changed.”

Ford leaned forward a little bit, eager to hear. Stan grinned as he thought back,

“’Course, what the guy hadn’t told Jimmy was that there were some rules to werewolves. Like when you changed, the kinda wolf you became was the kind best suited to the area. And since this was in Nevada, boiling hot Nevada, I turned into…” Stan trailed off. Ford thought it might just be to build suspense, but then he realized Stan was shaking. Stan was trying so hard not to laugh he couldn’t get the words out, and Ford smiled despite himself,

“What’d you turn into?”

“I turned into a chihuahua.” Both twins were shaking trying not to laugh, trying to hold still so as not to wake the kids. Stan wiped away a tear and tried to speak around the laughter in his throat, his voice coming out strained, “But not like, a regular chihuahua. Like, a five-foot-tall chihuahua. Big pointy ears, sharp teeth. Stupid yappy bark.”

“Sounds like Jimmy didn’t quite get what he bargained for,” Ford said. Stan shook his head,

“The funny part is, he got better than he bargained. You remember Auntie Lucia’s chihuahua?”

Ford nodded and Stan nodded back, grinning.

“Chihuahuas have too much fight for such a small dog. And then they’re a big dog, and they have just as much fight but now they have the size to do something. So there was Jimmy, on his way to being a big-time criminal, with a chihuahua werewolf for a boyfriend and a bodyguard. He stopped bringing me to big meetings because he was getting laughed out of the room.” He and Ford continued laughing quietly, Stan remembering the look on Jimmy’s face when he’d first transformed and Ford just imagining a five-foot-tall chihuahua. Eventually, the laughter subsided and Ford remember something,

“But you didn’t turn into a chihuahua when we were camping?”

Stan shrugged, “Lived in Gravity Falls long enough. After the first year or so the last of Nevada must have got out of my system and I started looking like a proper werewolf.”

“Fascinating,” Ford said. This time, Stan could tell his brother was itching to grab his journal and start taking notes and asking questions. Just then though, the commercial break ended and the titlecard came up and the announcer said,

“We now return to ‘The Duchess Approves’.”

“I’ll tell you more tomorrow,” Stan said, not looking away from the television. Ford smiled at his brother, his werewolf brother who loved period drama reruns.

Ford made a mental note to replace Stan’s cereal with dog treats before breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have a vague idea for how Stan explains this to Ford so if you want to see that, gimme a shout and I might be able to write it.
> 
> This story was written as an answer to a prompt on my 'I'm Live and Accepting Prompts!' story. If you want to send in a prompt, subscribe there and leave me a prompt when they open!
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr! Come hang out at beatrice-babe.tumblr.com


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